


I Would Deny You Nothing (This Gift Is Beyond Price)

by Ellory



Series: Pureblood Wizarding Culture [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aristocracy, Established Relationship, F/M, Pureblood Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 06:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12006786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellory/pseuds/Ellory
Summary: When the only thing you really want, is the only thing you can't have.





	I Would Deny You Nothing (This Gift Is Beyond Price)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net.

Harry Potter tightened his grasp on his wand as Draco Malfoy approached him after Care of Magical Creatures drew to a close. There was something different about him. His eyes were fiercer than Harry had ever seen them, his muscles clenching with every step he took, and his lips were curled in a patronizing smirk. 

But Harry could see the worry hidden beneath the smirk. Malfoy was smirking to keep from grimacing. He had been studying his rival for six years now, and Harry had always been observant. He had never seen an expression resembling this one on Malfoy’s face. 

“Potter,” Malfoy said, “I require a moment of your time.” His arms hung at his sides, trying to convey calmness, though he was clearly agitated. 

“Oi, ferret, stay away from—” 

“Ron, stop it! Let’s just go, Harry,” Hermione said. 

“Listen, Weasel, I—” Malfoy’s right cheek flexed, and Harry didn’t doubt for a moment that Malfoy had bitten it so that he wouldn’t upset Harry by insulting his friends. Malfoy took a deep breath and continued as though Ron hadn’t interrupted, “Potter, a moment of your time?” 

Ron’s wand was in his hand and aimed at Malfoy’s face a moment later. “You don’t get to order Harry arou—” He stared at the hand that was grasping his wrist in disbelief. His eyes trailed along the arm and connected with Harry’s. “Mate?” 

Harry shook his head and pressed on Ron’s wrist, forcing him to lower his wand. Ron might not have heard the slight questioning tone, but Harry had. It hadn’t been an order; it’d been a request. He released Ron’s wrist and gazed at Malfoy, wondering what the Slytherin could possibly need from him. 

“Sure thing, Malfoy.” He noticed the look of relief that flashed through gray eyes and turned to leave, knowing that Malfoy would follow him. 

“Mate, are you mental? It’s the ferret! He’s going to curse you!” Ron hollered as his face turned red with rage. 

“Harry, are you sure this is prudent?” Hermione asked. “Wouldn’t it be safer for us to accompany you?” 

Harry looked over at Malfoy and saw the boy was biting the inside of his cheek once again. “It’ll be fine. Go on ahead. I’ll see you at lunch.” 

“But Harry, it’s Malfoy!” Ron snapped. 

“I said it’ll be fine,” Harry repeated. He didn’t know what Malfoy wanted with him, but that look in Malfoy’s eyes and the rigidity in his body told Harry this wasn’t a prank or a cruel trap. Malfoy needed something from him—Harry Potter. If Malfoy hadn’t seemed so desperate and serious, Harry would have laughed in his face.  
But this, whatever it was, couldn’t be good if it affected Malfoy on this level.

“Harry, are you sure?” Hermione asked. 

“Yes, Hermione, I’m sure,” he replied. He enunciated his words, something he only did when he was getting irritated. 

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Do you want me to take your bag?” she asked. She hugged her books to her chest with one arm and extended the other toward him.

“Sure, thanks,” he said as he handed it over. He turned and stalked over to the lake. Harry stopped when he reached the edge of the lake, waiting for Malfoy to join him.  
Malfoy appeared at his side, yet nothing was said. He glanced over. Malfoy had grown taller since the school year began; the top of his head was level with Harry’s chin. Harry had grown several inches himself over the year, topping six feet, much to his pleasure. His gaze drifted down. Malfoy was clenching and unclenching his hands. The skin would turn white, and then he’d relax them, only to repeat the process. 

As the minutes passed, Harry waited for Malfoy to speak. Whatever this was about, it must be more important than he had assumed. His mind began running different thoughts and scenarios. 

“I don’t like you, Potter,” Malfoy stated. Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. “In fact, I might even hate you,” Malfoy added. “However, I’m not blind to certain virtues that you possess.” Harry could hear the sneer coloring his voice. “You’re a Gryffindor, and a prat, and a gullible, naïve fool.” Harry gritted his teeth as Malfoy maligned his character. “Yet, for all the things that are wrong with you, you do one thing right.” 

Harry whipped his head to the side, staring at Malfoy in disbelief. Had he just been complimented in a backhanded sort of way? He blinked. What was it that Malfoy thought he did right? 

“I don’t—I can’t—Ugh!” Malfoy snapped as his hands clenched into fists tighter than before. 

Harry’s jaw almost dropped. He had never heard Malfoy babble; he didn’t think Malfoys were allowed to be inarticulate. 

Malfoy kept his eyes on the water and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it, and pulling Harry’s attention back to the present. “I can’t protect her,” Malfoy said, defeat in his voice. “My name, my wealth, none of that can protect her. I’m already engaged.”

Harry’s gaze narrowed. To hear Malfoy admit to being helpless was almost more shocking than to hear Malfoy wanted to protect someone. Harry had never seen Malfoy stand up for anyone, not even his bodyguards or groupies. 

“Her father is . . . odd, Potter, and her mother is dead,” Malfoy said through gritted teeth, hands shoved in his pockets. Malfoy’s whole body shook—rage and worry swimming in gray eyes that were normally cold. Harry had never seen them alive like this; he hadn’t thought they could be alive like this. 

“Her family is Neutral, bordering on Light, but there’s been talk—she won’t be given a choice,” Malfoy said. He turned his head away from the water and stared directly into Harry’s eyes. The intensity of the gaze pierced Harry, shocking him with the many emotions it held. Draco Malfoy cared about someone. Malfoy took a deep breath, and then cast aside his pride, saying, “I can’t protect her, but you can.” 

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. The tone of voice, the look in Malfoy’s eyes, the way his cheek muscles clenched and spasmed, they all told a story. Draco Malfoy wanted his help—no, needed his help—and was willing to bare himself to someone he hated and open himself up to ridicule to get it. 

“If I refuse?” Harry asked as he met Malfoy’s gaze head-on, not to be cruel, but out of curiosity. 

Malfoy must have seen that in his eyes, because he replied, “You won’t.” The slightest smirk curled his lips and he sounded sure of himself. 

“But if I do?” Harry asked, just to be contrary. 

He scowled. “Then she’ll be Branded as a Death Eater against her will. No one will be able to save her, and she’ll likely become the Inner Circle’s toy,” Malfoy ground out.  
Harry reeled back in shock. Malfoy had just admitted that he’d be a Death Eater soon, but Harry knew his rival wasn’t fated to be a toy—not with Lucius Malfoy in the Inner Circle. “Why—?” His throat swelled shut, not allowing the question to escape, but Malfoy understood it and answered anyway. 

“There’ve been rumors that you can see what the Dark Lord does occasionally,” he said. Malfoy snorted when Harry neither agreed nor disagreed with the statement. “Then you know what it’s really like.” Harry continued to stare at him in horror. “Potter, she may be a pureblood, but without someone in the upper echelon to keep her safe she’ll be free game for anyone wanting to practice their curses or . . .” Malfoy’s face paled and the rage and helplessness flared in his eyes once more. 

His head fell forward, and his hair drifted down to block Harry’s view of his eyes. “I won’t be in a position to help her, Potter. I won’t have the power to save her. I won’t—I can’t let that happen to her. She deserves better than that. She deserves a choice,” Malfoy said. 

“So do you,” Harry replied. 

Malfoy chuckled, a humorless smirk on his face. “I made my choice, Potter. I’m the one who’ll have to live with it, but I made it of my own free will.” Exhaustion painted his features. “You’re not the only one with people to protect. The Dark Lord—never mind. I want, no, need her to have a choice. You can protect her. I know you hate me, Potter. I’ve never done anything for you or your friends.” Malfoy took a deep breath and said, “I once overheard you speaking with them, and you said that people shouldn’t be punished for what those associated with them do, or something like that.” 

Harry’s head jerked back once more. He remembered that. He’d been in the library with Ron and Hermione. He’d been angry that Severus Snape was once again treating him the way he did because of the way the Marauders had treated him.

“Did you mean it?” Malfoy asked, lifting his gaze to meet Harry’s eyes. His shoulders were tense, and his hands were fisted in his pockets.  
And there it was: the question. 

It seemed like such a simple thing, a small question, but there were a great many questions packed into those four words. Could he trust Harry with the pureblood witch that he was unable to protect himself? Would Harry live up to the words he spoke and the person he claimed to be? Was the Daily Prophet right, and Harry was nothing but a liar?  
Harry had made his decision the moment he realized what Malfoy wanted from him. He had only been further convinced with every word that had come from Malfoy’s mouth. It was true that he didn’t like Malfoy, and he doubted he ever would. Yet after today, his respect for Malfoy improved, even if it was only the smallest bit. It took courage to do what Malfoy had done, and Harry would honor that. 

“I meant it,” Harry said. 

The tension drained from Malfoy’s body and the barest hint of a smile appeared on his face. “I’ve seen you watching her,” he said. The smile on his face turned to a smirk as Harry froze, eyes flying wide open. 

Harry took a deep breath as the shock faded, trying to control his sudden rage, but his hands still curled into fierce fists. They were planning on turning her into a Death Eater toy? 

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, and then he nodded once. It appeared he was satisfied that his wishes would be met. Malfoy turned around and began walking away from the lake. He paused. “She watches you, too. Keep my cousin safe, Potter.” Then he continued toward the school. 

Malfoy’s cousin? Harry felt astounded at the revelation, but it made a great deal of sense. 

Harry shook himself and began walking back toward the castle. They had been talking for some time now. If he didn’t show up soon Ron and Hermione would come looking for him, wands ready. He was still in shock about what had just occurred. Draco Malfoy had just—he shook his head and focused his thoughts.  
It wouldn’t happen. He wouldn’t allow something like that to happen, not ever, and especially not to her. 

It had started out simply, innocuously. He had noticed the way her long fingers curled around her wand during DA meetings. Then he had become aware of how fragile she seemed to be, regardless of her vibrant personality. Just like he had, she had witnessed her mother’s death. 

Yet, it was the loneliness and desire for company in her silver eyes that had truly captured him. They were often hidden by the blonde hair that Harry desperately wanted to touch. He could see the emotions behind her mask, because he was intimately familiar with them. Those same emotions were often hidden by a mask of his own. 

She never sought anyone out, though, and she never let anyone close to her. She was solitary in a school full of students. Harry didn’t remember seeing her willingly speak with anyone other than Malfoy (since they were cousins, that actually made sense now) or the others who had fought with Harry at the Ministry. 

She just exuded an aura that made her seem unapproachable, by playing barmy to avoid social politics. No one had ever been there for Harry, and he wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow that to happen to this seemingly fragile witch. Harry had already intended to keep her safe; Malfoy’s comments had only increased that desire.  
With her bravery and loyalty and many quirks, Luna Lovegood won his heart.

Today was the last day of school this year, and the Yule holiday would start tomorrow. There were no classes after lunch and Harry was grateful for that. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to pay attention to anything the rest of the day. Not with the rage seething through him. 

Malfoy’s words echoed in his mind as he walked up the steps to the school. ‘She’ll be free game for anyone wanting to practice their curses or . . .’ He would never allow that to happen. No one would use Luna like that, not as long as he was alive. The Death Eaters were more loyal to Voldemort than they were to their own blood. Harry prayed he would never understand their mentality.

Harry stalked through the Entrance Hall, focused on solving the problem Malfoy had presented. He had to make sure Luna would be safe. Possibilities flashed through his mind one after the other and were discarded as insufficient. He had just reached the closed doors to the Great Hall when he came to a halt. A devious grin spread across his face as he remembered something Hermione had told him at the beginning of the year. 

* * * 

“Harry, did you know that you’re a pureblood now?” Hermione asked. 

Harry blinked up at her in shock. Her sudden question had broken the silence that had lasted since they entered the carriage in Hogsmeade. “What’re you talking about, Hermione?” Was she insane? How could he be a pureblood all of a sudden? 

She tutted. “Don’t you ever read?” 

“I’ve been a little preoccupied mourning Snuffles,” he ground out. He mumbled a soft apology when she winced at the harsh words. 

“No, it’s my fault,” she replied. “I didn’t mean to sound insensitive.” 

“How can he be a pureblood?” Ron asked. 

Harry fought back a groan as he heard the barely hidden jealousy in the question. Blood Status was about the only thing Ron beat him in, and his friend didn’t seem to be pleased that he had lost that edge. Ron was a good friend, but Harry didn’t need this right now. 

“Snuffles named Harry as his magical heir,” Hermione informed them as she went into lecture mode. “He’s already the magical heir of the Potter family. Being named Snuffles’ magical heir was a type of unofficial adoption. Blood Status is determined by combining the . . .” Harry tuned her out until the carriage came to a stop. He caught the very end of her speech as she declared, “So he’s basically James Potter’s and Snuffles’ son magically, which gives him pureblood status.”

* * * 

Ron was a right prat for days after the revelation, but he settled down once Harry remained the same. He snorted. Hermione had given him a book on pureblood customs and laws for Christmas, along with a note saying he needed to learn what his duties were so he’d be able to perform them. The book was an interesting read and he finished it in a day. 

The grin on his face grew wider. Harry hadn’t actually believed he’d need to use any of the stuff in there while he was still a student. He had applied some things in it before, mainly giving himself a better understanding of purebloods and why they acted as they did. Now though, he would use it to keep Luna safe, assuming Malfoy was correct about Luna watching him as well. 

It was hard to gauge her emotions, even when they were dueling or studying together. “My little mystery.”

Harry pushed against the doors and they banged against the walls. The students jumped. Several wands were aimed at him before they realized who made such an entrance. He didn’t doubt for a moment that Snape was subtracting points from Gryffindor, but he didn’t care. 

He headed toward the Ravenclaw table, which caused whispering to break out around the room. Everyone was watching him (not that such a thing was new), and the gazes switched to Malfoy before returning to him. 

His locked gazes with Luna; her eyes narrowed in contemplation. She glanced at Malfoy. Whatever she saw there caused every muscle in her body to relax. Harry rounded the end of the table and Luna turned to face him. Luna’s head tilted back as Harry came closer. Harry came to a stop before her, and there was a moment of silence where an endless number of emotions passed through Harry’s mind. 

Harry sank to his knees, trembling. Luna wasn’t fond of being singled out in public; he hoped this wouldn’t backfire. He reached into his robe pocket and withdrew his wand: the wand that would defeat Voldemort someday in the future, if Dumbledore was to be believed. Harry turned it so the handle faced Luna and spoke the ritual words, “It will serve to protect you and your happiness as long as it exists.” 

There were several gasps, and the noise level rose. 

“I can’t believe he’s—!” 

“Is he bleeding ment—?” 

“What’s going on—?” 

“Think she’ll refuse—?” 

“What does Potter think—?” 

Harry ignored the clamoring noise, because none of those questions mattered to him. He stayed on his knees, offering his wand, waiting for Luna’s answer. The longer he waited, the louder the voices got, and the more nervous he became. 

Dang it! He wanted to bond with Luna. He wasn’t just doing this because of what Malfoy had told him. He had known for months now that he wanted Luna to be his wife. Malfoy’s information had simply sped up his plans. He loved her so much that he didn’t even care that she was Malfoy’s cousin.

Harry was unable to read her for the first time since he started watching Luna. The mask she was wearing was impenetrable. Harry had no idea what she was thinking. He tried to keep his breathing calm and his body from trembling. Would he be refused? He couldn’t look elsewhere, afraid that if he tore his eyes away he’d be rejected. He needed Luna to accept him, to understand that this was something he wanted. He longed for Luna to see the love that was in his eyes, in his every action toward her. 

Luna closed her eyes, breaking the connection between them, and Harry felt his heart lurch. He could feel it twisting and—Luna was touching his hand. He looked down, tearing his eyes away from her beautiful face. She clasped his wand and withdrew it from his hand. 

He didn’t think he would ever hear anything sweeter than the words that escaped Luna’s lips. “May it break if your words prove false.” 

A radiant grin appeared on Harry’s face. He completed the ritual. “May it break if my words prove false.” The holly wand glowed a brilliant white as the vow was sealed.  
Harry brought Luna’s hand to his lips. He pressed a chaste kiss against the soft skin and stared up into Luna’s eyes; they were shining with happiness. 

Harry stood and accepted the wand back, sliding it into his pocket once again. He entwined his fingers with Luna’s and guided his fiancée over to the Gryffindor table, smirking once at Malfoy as he passed him. The relief in Malfoy’s eyes made the smirk widen. 

For now, Luna was safe. When Voldemort found out . . . Harry didn’t even want to contemplate it. Somehow, he would keep her safe from that monster. 

They sat across from Ron and Hermione. Everyone continued to stare at them in shocked disbelief over what had just transpired. It was finally broken when Hannah Abbot’s words drifted over from the Hufflepuff table. “Congratulations, Harry. I hope you’ll be happy!” 

“Thank you, Hannah,” Harry said. 

“Thank you, Miss Abbot,” Luna replied. 

Those few words seemed to shatter the silence. Harry ignored the pushy questions, knowing several other people would be happy to answer them in precise detail. The Ravenclaws and the purebloods knew all about the betrothal ceremony. If Harry had his way, he and Luna would be bonded today as well. He wasn’t going to let anything take Luna away from him. 

He glanced up to see Ron’s mouth opening and closing. His cheeks kept alternating between a fiery red and sickly paleness. “Lovegood?” he squeaked out. 

Harry’s arm wrapped around Luna’s waist. He pulled his fiancée against his side. At least Ron had been wise enough to not call her ‘Looney’ again. “Yes,” he replied. His tone of voice warned Ron that this wasn’t something he would be forgiven for if he said the wrong thing. His thumb rubbed against Luna’s side as he waited for Ron’s reaction. 

“Right,” Ron whispered. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened them again, and then stared at Luna. “Congratulations on your betrothal.” 

Luna nodded, accepting the words, and that broke the tension at the Gryffindor table. “Thank you, Ronald.” 

They were only partway through the meal when Hermione finally spoke. “Did Malfoy talk you into this? Is this what he wanted? Why would he want this, though? Or did he ask you for something el—?” 

She shrank back a moment later and Harry knew the look in his eyes was unkind, but he couldn’t stop his natural reaction to such a question. Why were his best friends so oblivious when it came to the things that really mattered to him? How could they be so smart in some areas, and incredibly thick in others? “Hermione, do you really think that I would offer myself to someone for any reason other than love?” 

Hermione blinked in shock as the words registered. “Harry, I’m sor—” 

“I don’t appreciate the suggestion that Luna would sell herself to me,” Harry whispered. He was grateful for the clamor at the Hufflepuff table that had drawn most of the room’s attention. His body trembled with frustration. 

Confusion overcame the shock. “What are you—?” 

“Hermione, these bonds can only be entered into willingly,” Ron said. 

“He’s Harry,” Hermione said, as if that explained everything. “He’d be willing to do almost anything to protect someone.” 

Luna leaned her head against Harry’s chest. “Hermione, it isn’t a person’s brain that has to be willing. It’s their heart.” 

“Oh,” Hermione gasped as understanding dawned on her. An embarrassed blush colored her cheeks. “I wasn’t aware that—I’m sorry, Harry, Luna. I’m so sorry. The books I read never mentioned that. I . . .” 

“You’re forgiven,” Luna replied. 

Harry nodded jerkily and watched in relief as Ron dragged her into a conversation about holiday study plans. He’d owe Ron for that later, no doubt about it.

He felt eyes boring into him and glanced up. Severus Snape stared at him with a look Harry didn’t recognize. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He didn’t trust Snape, not one bit. Harry tightened his grip on Luna’s waist and wondered if his professor would be the one to tell Voldemort of his betrothal.

Luna was his greatest weakness, and, despite his best efforts, Harry didn’t think either of them would make it through the coming war unscathed. 

* * *

Harry Potter winced and dropped his copy of the Daily Prophet. Its headline declared in moving, bold font that Draco Malfoy now had a son. His hand shook as he reached for his glass of pumpkin juice. Draco Malfoy had a son . . . and he didn’t. Harry lifted his glass and tossed the pumpkin juice back as if it were a shot of liquor. It didn’t burn down his throat, though he wished it had. The pain might have made the situation more tolerable.

Eight years now, Voldemort was dead, and the evil wizard still haunted every day of Harry’s life.

It seemed a new Weasley child was being born every other month. He was a godfather seven times over—Neville and Hannah Longbottom’s second child being his newest goddaughter. Yet the title he most longed to bear, father, was not his.

Luna Potter, his wife of nine years, walked into the room. She flinched when she saw the newspaper on the ground. “I wanted to burn it, but . . .”

“I would have found out anyway,” Harry choked out.

Everything had changed for them in Malfoy Manor, back when Harry was only seventeen years old. He had ensured he was captured by Snatchers, hoping to find his kidnapped wife and help Luna escape. Though he hadn’t meant for Ron and Hermione to get caught as well, he was grateful to not be alone. It had been a nightmare—not even Lucius and Draco Malfoy had been able to save Luna from Bellatrix Lestrange’s games.

In just a few years’ time, he had been forced to grow up. Luna had suffered similar experiences, and so she empathized on the deepest level. He had needed that then, and still needed it today. Now they suffered jointly in the bitterest gall of pain.

“I know,” replied Luna. “I just wish—” She smothered the words, and Harry was grateful for that. Wishes were useless at this point. Not even the Elder Wand had been able to help them, when Harry dared to remove it from Dumbledore’s tomb.

“I would give up all my fame, all my titles, if I could give you one child,” Harry whispered, a vow he had repeated countless times since they had learned the truth.

“And I would sacrifice all the mythical creatures I’ve ever believed in if I could bear you one,” she whispered in return, tears welling in her eyes.

Years ago, before they had learned the truth, Harry and Luna spent hours planning their future family. They redecorated the nursery in Potter Manor, and then built another one near it for their future daughters. They compiled a list of names: some serious, some ridiculous, some unpronounceable, and they were genuinely fond of very few.

But then time passed. Everyone they knew was either expecting, or giving birth, or already had children, and they had nothing but the hope of a child. Surely, eventually, it would happen. All they wanted in the world was a large family to call their own. After all they had suffered through, after all they had lost, surely Mother Magic would grant them their deepest desire.

“I know you would, my love,” said Harry as he set the glass back down on the table. The sound of crystal meeting wood rang unnaturally loud in the silent dining room.

Three years ago, they had performed a fertility ritual: an Olde Magick ritual Luna had researched for months. Luna’s menses three weeks later crushed their only remaining hope for children of their own. The specialist from St. Mungo’s had said if anything could give them a child, it would be the Olde Magick. 

Perhaps it would have torn them apart, if one of them were to blame. However, both were infertile. Bellatrix Lestrange had tortured and poisoned Luna countless times when she had been locked in the Malfoys’ dungeon. The damage had been permanent by the time that she had been rescued, despite the healing potions Draco had snuck to her whenever he could get away with it. And Harry had been dead for several minutes as he spoke with Dumbledore’s spirit in King’s Cross Station, in a world of white. A body without life couldn’t produce progeny. By the time he returned to the world of the living, it was too late.

Their agony had only brought them closer together. And it eased their pain, if only the slightest bit, to know that the blame didn’t rest solely on their own shoulders.

Luna swallowed and removed her right hand from behind her back; her knuckles were white from where they clutched the miniature Quidditch broom. It was meant to be their oldest child’s first toy. He still remembered the day they had picked it out: hearts free from grief and eyes alight with joy. 

“He’ll be a Seeker, like me,” Harry had teased. “Or a Chaser, like my dad,” he had whispered.

Laughing, Luna had pulled it from his grasp and whacked him with it right there in the middle of Quality Quidditch Supplies. “Or a Beater, like his godfather,” she had said. 

Back then, before their dreams were dashed, they had intended to ask George Weasley to be their child’s godfather. George had been so lifeless with the loss of his twin, and they were sure that being asked to be their child’s godfather would bring some light back into his eyes. Instead, it was Angelina Johnson, now Weasley—his twin’s old girlfriend—who had brought the spark back to his eyes when they had bonded years ago.

“I thought—” Luna sighed and traced her slender fingers over the toy broom. “Draco’s mother saved your life. It seems only right to give his firstborn son a gift,” said Luna. Even as she spoke, she clutched the broom to her chest, as if she never wished to part from it.

“We never got his daughter anything,” breathed Harry, unable to tear his gaze away from the broom they had bought for his heir. His precious, beloved son . . . who would never exist.

“It wouldn’t have been proper, seeing as we weren’t hoping to ally our families through a bonding,” Luna said. She trembled. “Gifts are only given to the daughters we hope are someday worthy of our heir.”

Sighing, Harry leapt from his chair and engulfed Luna in his embrace. “I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t know. I still have much to learn about the Ancient Ways,” Harry said. In the beginning, shortly after they had bonded, he had been enthusiastic to learn the Ancient Ways, as excited as Luna was to teach him. He had never devoured anything that quickly before, not even Defense Against the Dark Arts. Practicing the Ancient Ways felt like coming home after being on holiday for much too long.

But once the fertility ritual had failed them, both he and Luna had found it hard to devote themselves as fully as before. Mother Magic hadn’t answered their desperate plea, even after years of faithful service. Harry felt like Mother Magic had betrayed him, and it wasn’t a betrayal he was motivated to forgive. If anything, it left him feeling bitter. After losing his parents, and participating in that stupid tournament, and fulfilling Mother Magic’s cruel prophecy, didn’t he deserve a reward?

“If you wish to give Draco and his wife the broom—” Harry’s fingers trailed along the smooth wood. “Do what you think is best, my love.”

“What I think best?” Luna’s head fell forward against his chest, and her shoulders twitched. “What I think is best would be highly illegal. Stealing from the Department of Mysteries, changing time, allowing Voldemort to win . . .” Luna leaned back and cupped his face. “I would let the world crumble to ruins and burn if I could only give you a family.”

Harry clung to her and set his chin on her head as he gasped in a breath. This was the first time either of them had spoken such thoughts aloud, but the sentiment wasn’t a new one. Every time he held the Deathstick, Harry knew how easily he could make that a reality; he could go back and stop her from being tortured, could stop his own death, and hide them from Voldemort. But . . . “I will not condemn people to death, our friends, our family, and innocent children, just so I can have a child,” Harry said, each word ripped from him. He tried to imagine a world without Teddy, Hugo, Rose, Fred, Roxanne, and the others.

“Ever the Gryffindor. Ever the Potter,” Luna sighed. “Unable to let others suffer for you.” She rose up and kissed his cheek. “I would not have you any other way.”

Before Harry could reply, a house-elf with enormous ears and massive blue eyes popped into the dining room. “Master and Mistress is being having guests.” The house-elf quivered with excitement, likely because they hadn’t left the manor or allowed anyone to visit in almost a year now.

Luna set the toy broom on the buffet table and swished her wand, removing the evidence of her tears. Her pale skin was smooth as porcelain and unmarred, and her silver eyes were no longer tinged with red. “Where did you put them?”

“They’s being in the front sitting room, Mistress.”

Harry bowed his head and fisted his hands in his hair, his throat feeling like it would swell shut. The last time someone had interrupted their request for solitude, Ron and Hermione had come to inform them she was pregnant. Today, of all days, he wasn’t sure he could handle news like that. “Thank you. Please tell them we’ll be along momentarily.”

“As Master is wishing.” The house-elf popped away.

“I don’t know if I can . . .”

Luna cupped Harry’s face between her hands and stared right into his eyes. “We will smile and congratulate them, and say ‘yes, of course!’ when they ask us to be godparents again.”

Closing his eyes, Harry nodded. “All right. Let’s get this over with.” He tangled their fingers together and guided his wife out of the room and through the manor. Each step closer felt like an eternity. He had heard Ron and Hermione whispering once that they should name their next child either James or Lily for his sake. While he appreciated the sentiment, it would only cause him even more pain to be a godfather—not a father—to children with names that belonged to his family.

He paused outside the door to the sitting room to take a fortifying breath, and then headed in with Luna at his side. The sight that met his eyes was most unexpected. Heiress Astoria Malfoy was sitting on the nearest settee, a fair baby sleeping against her chest. And Heir Draco Malfoy stood with his back to them, staring up at the life-size portrait of Harry’s grandparents: Charlus and Dorea Potter.

“You look radiant, Astoria,” Luna said as she released Harry’s hand and joined her friend on the settee.

Harry didn’t disagree. His old rival, and now friend-of-a-sort, had done very well for himself. Astoria had been in Ravenclaw with Luna, and was one of the few girls who had ever treated her well. It also didn’t escape his attention that they were of a likeness: blonde, fair of face, and slight in nature.

“Thank you,” Astoria said. Her voice was thick and wet, as if she would burst into tears any moment.

“What’s wrong?” demanded Harry, gaze homing in on the sleeping infant. “Is something wrong with him?” Had they come to beg his assistance, request that he use the Elder Wand to heal their child? Harry would do so in a heartbeat. He would rather have no children his entire life than lose one right after it was born.

“S-Scorpius is fine,” Astoria assured them through her tears. She wrapped her arms around her baby, as if she thought he would vanish.

“Then what’s the matter?” asked Luna. She stroked Astoria’s hair as if the younger woman were a child, not old enough to have two children of her own. “And how can we help?”

The answer they sought came from Draco, whose back was still facing them. “Love him.”

“What?” Harry asked ineloquently. Love whom?

So slowly that he didn’t seem to be moving at all, Draco turned around. He cradled an infant that looked identical to the one in Astoria’s arms, except the baby had black hair. Draco’s voice was a mixture of utter loss, firm resolve, and undeniable command. “His name is James Sirius Potter. Love him until the day you die. Give him everything he could ever want.”

Wetness trickled down Harry’s cheeks as he collapsed in a nearby chair. “James Sirius Potter? Draco . . . w-what are you s-saying?”

Draco closed the distance between them as slowly as he had turned around what must have been an hour ago. He offered the sleeping baby to Harry, and Harry cradled it against his chest without a moment’s thought. He had held many babies over the years, and knew how to do it right. Draco’s fingers feathered through the soft black hair on the baby’s head. “Lord Harry Potter, in recompense for the crimes the Vigilant and Most Ancient House of Malfoy committed against your wife, I offer this child, of noble and pure blood, to be your son and heir.” Draco’s voice seemed to fail him for a moment, and then he whispered, “He is named James Sirius Potter, after your honorable father and godfather.” Draco swallowed and took a step backward, eyes never leaving the baby. “Heiress Malfoy and I hope that he will bear your family name with honor, and never give you cause to grieve.”

The moment the last word left Draco’s mouth, Harry felt a magical bond appear in his mind; it tied him to the baby boy in his arms as the child’s father. Luna sobbed and rushed over. She stroked her fingertips along the baby’s rosy cheeks. When James yawned and opened his eyes, Harry almost swallowed his tongue in surprise; James had silver eyes. With that and the black hair, he truly looked like the biological child of Harry and Luna.

But he wasn’t. 

It was nigh impossible to tear his gaze away from his son—his son—but he managed it. Draco had joined Astoria on the settee, and her face was buried in his neck as she wept. Astoria, this beautiful, generous, kind, loving woman, had just allowed her husband to give away her son—to him. They had magically severed a twin bond—for him.

“You’ll be his godparents, of course,” Harry said. He had no words to describe the absolute relief on Draco’s face at the pronouncement. Harry stood, James held tightly to him, and walked over, kneeling before the settee. After each Malfoy had placed a hand atop James’s head, Harry spoke the ritual words. “Mother Magic, I grant Draco and Astoria Malfoy the right of guardianship over my son and heir, James Sirius Potter. I desire that they may always watch over him, guide his path, and protect him from whatsoever may seek to cause him harm.”

Astoria’s eyes fluttered shut. She whispered, “I can feel him again.”

Luna knelt beside him and smiled up at the Malfoys through her tears. “And you’ll foster him for us, of course. We would trust no other with our only son.”

Draco leaned forward and kissed Luna’s cheek. “Thank you, Lady Potter. Thank you.”

“Luna and Harry,” Harry corrected. “I think it’s only fair to be on a first name basis with our son’s godparents. Besides, anyone who has unfettered access through my wards has no need to address me by my title.”

Astoria looked like she wanted to throw herself into Harry’s arms and hug him forever. She kissed his cheek, instead. “Thank you, Harry. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!”

“Would you . . . ?” Draco was dazed, as if he couldn’t believe their reaction to what he and his wife had done. As if, once again, Harry had defied his expectations. “Would you be Scorpius’s godparents? We hadn’t dared to hope they would have a godsibling bond, but now . . .”

James wriggled in his arms, and Harry stared down at his son. His son! Eyes so like Sirius’s gazed up at him, soothing an ache that was ten years old. “Draco,” Harry said, voice tender and welcoming, “you could ask anything of me today, and I would deny you nothing.”

“Just love him,” Draco said.

This wasn’t the first time Draco had given something he loved to Harry. Once again, Harry vowed not to fail the trust he was being shown.

Harry and Luna nodded in unison and swore a Potter Oath, “We will.”


End file.
